


Of Domestic Bliss, Randy Redheads, and Days at the Beach

by bettiqua



Series: Of Domestic Bliss, Randy Redheads, and... [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: (both for julian's route obv), (but it's definitely also really gentle and loving at the same time), (except with a little but of very very domestic plot), (like with the softest Dom u could imagine), Beach Episode, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Rough Sex, Spoilers for Book IX: The Hermit (The Arcana), Spoilers for Book XVI: The Tower (The Arcana), i read over it like Once for typos :-)) and i don’t have any betas for this :-)))) i die, male apprentice but no name is given, sorry for the like 6000 words before the actual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 15:50:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettiqua/pseuds/bettiqua
Summary: “Say,” Julian starts, interrupting himself with a bite of a roll. You stare patiently until he continues, “Portia was talking about taking a day off and spending it together, just the three of us, sometime soon. She wants to go to the beach—have a picnic, mess about in the water, all that… Would you be interested in coming?” He looks like he’s trying to seem casual about asking, but he’s fidgeting with the half-eaten roll in his hands. He has no reason to be nervous, of course.“I’d love to,” you say. “I’ve lived here for a while, but I don’t think I’ve ever gone to the beach.”OR; Julian and Portia take the Apprentice to the beach, show him a wonderful time, then the Apprentice shows Julian a wonderful time in bed.





	Of Domestic Bliss, Randy Redheads, and Days at the Beach

**Author's Note:**

> i love julian and portia!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! aaaaaaaaa!!! (that me yellin)
> 
> also sorry if i meandered too much lol my excuse is adhd :^)))

You are very, very aware of the fact that Julian enjoys being manhandled and hurt and used. Julian can be quite vocal about his masochistic tendencies, but sometimes he gets incredibly flustered over it. It’s a trait you find quite endearing, and sometimes you like to indulge in those preferences of his. Be a little pushy when you’re taking a moment to yourselves kissing in a hidden alcove, give him a sharp _thwap_ on the ass when he happens to be bent over a drawer, demanding things of him and calling him a good boy when he immediately does as you asked. He always gets this pretty flush on his cheeks, always has a hard time meeting your eyes (unless you tell him to), and always, _always_ thanks you afterwards, like this is some kind of burden you undertake to make him happy.

You wish that you could somehow show him that it is no such burden. You enjoy making him feel good, and if being rough with him is what accomplishes that, then so be it. Maybe his biggest kink is being pushed around, but yours is seeing Julian get off with that look of utter bliss. It’s satisfying, and sometimes entirely exhilarating. There’s always a rush when you see him so desperate to please that he’ll even get on his knees and beg…

Hm, maybe Julian has woken something up in you that you never knew was there.

“Oh, darling, I’m home!” you hear Julian’s voice float through the main floor of the shop to the back room, disrupting your thoughts. He occupies them with more and more frequency, you find, and you wonder for a moment if you’ve maybe become addicted to him. …Certainly not the worst affliction in the world to have, you think. “I brought you a gift!”

Laughing to yourself as you exit the back room, you correct him, “You don’t live here, Julian.” In his hands, he’s carrying a small paper bag about the size of Pepi. You must admit your curiosity is definitely piqued.

“No matter,” he waves you off, “it’s only a question of time.” He looks at you with a grin and raised eyebrow, daring you to ask what he’s talking about. Again, you indulge him.

“Until what?”

“Why,” he says, with a flourish of his hand, “until you move in with me, of course. Then I can say it whenever I’d like.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him mention [having a place of his own](http://thearcanagame.tumblr.com/post/174484412439/in-heart-hunter-julian-asks-you-if-youd-like-to). You’re sure he didn’t just stay with Mazelinka or Portia all the time, but you were never sure if he had a place to sleep other than your shop (when Asra wasn’t around, anyway) and his clinic. You wonder what took him so long to bring it up.

“So certain I’d move in with you, hm?” you ask disingenuously. Of course you would, in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t seem to catch your tone, and blushes, mouth opening and closing a few times like a fish.

“I-I suppose I assumed—” he stammers, but stops when you start laughing. Then he pouts, squinting his eyes at you as he says, “You are a cruel man.”

You gasp dramatically, placing a hand against your heart. “I am not! Take that back!”

He just grins at you again, “You could make me.” He waggles his eyebrows for good measure. _Adorable_ , you think. It’s almost funny how completely ruined you are for this man.

“Maybe later. What’s in the bag?” Unfortunately, you have to change the subject. There’s no way you could take him up on his offer in the shop. Asra wouldn’t be mad, per se, but it sure would be humiliating if he found out. And he would probably find out.

Julian seems to have forgotten that he was carrying it at all. “Ah!” he exclaims, raising it up to your eye level. As it nears your face, you can immediately smell it. The scent is subtle, which explains why you couldn’t smell it when Julian walked in, but you recognize it immediately.

“Rosemary rolls?” They smell fresh, too. Your mouth starts to water. But…how did Julian know you liked them? You ask him this.

“Oh, erm.” He chuckles awkwardly, almost sounding as if he was hoping you wouldn’t ask. “I, uh…asked Asra what kind of things you like.”

“That’s…” you stare at him, wide-eyed with a (surely sappy) smile slowly curving up your lips, “really? That’s very sweet of you, Julian. Thank you so much.” You take the bag from him, and he smiles back, flushed with pride.

“Of course, my dear. Anything for you.”

The two of you go through the bag of rosemary rolls, chatting idly about Julian’s day at the clinic (only two patients; a baby that wasn’t as sick as its mother feared, and the other a man with a broken ankle), your day at the shop (just Portia, now one of your most frequent customers, asking for her daily reading and lucky numbers), and any other random things that come to mind.

“Say,” Julian starts, interrupting himself with a bite of a roll. You stare patiently until he continues, “Portia was talking about taking a day off and spending it together, just the three of us, sometime soon. She wants to go to the beach—have a picnic, mess about in the water, all that… Would you be interested in coming?” He looks like he’s trying to seem casual about asking, but he’s fidgeting with the half-eaten roll in his hands. He has no reason to be nervous, of course.

“I’d love to,” you say. “I’ve lived here for a while, but I don’t think I’ve ever gone to the beach.”

Julian looks startled at that. “Really? Why not?”

“Well,” you start with a shrug, “I never really had any friends to go with besides Asra and Faust. Asra was around often enough, but we were usually never free at the same time to go, and it would be kind of sad if it were just Faust and I.” At that, Julian stares at you, contemplating, as he steeples his hands, roll abandoned on his plate. He stares for long enough that you almost start squirming, but then he picks up his roll again.

“All right, then. We’re just going to have to spend the entire day there to make up for it,” he says, tossing the rest of his roll into his mouth. He sounds so serious and matter-of-fact that you can’t help but laugh. The smile on his face when you do is gorgeous.

 

* * *

 

Portia’s delighted squealing as she breaks off into a run the moment you all can see the beach, Pepi at her heels, is infectious. You don’t quite start cheering yourself, but your heart starts beating fast with excitement. Your first beach day… There’s a lot of firsts you’ve experienced ever since you met Julian. You look over at him, and catch him watching Portia dart off with a fond look.

It’s summer in Vesuvia, so it’s quite warm, even though it’s still morning. You’re wearing far fewer clothes than normal—you’ll be shedding most of them to swim, anyway—and with thinner cloth, too, most of it translucent. Portia is wearing a cute, white one-piece swimsuit that cuts off mid-thigh, a long orange cloth tied around her waist, and a wide-brimmed sun hat, toting a frankly enormous bag that bumps against her hip with every step. Sometimes you forget how strong she is.

Julian, contrary to the both of you, is wearing a full outfit. He lacks his typical overcoat and waistcoat, but he’s wearing his long-sleeved white tunic, leggings, and signature long, leather gloves and boots. Surely he must be baking in it, but besides a single bead of sweat that trails down his neck (which you consider licking off), he seems fine. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check up with him.

“Julian? Are you all right? Not too warm?” you ask, trying not to sound too worried, lest he brush off your concern. He grins down at you playfully.

“I’ll be just fine. It’s not my first day on the beach, you know.” He does sound all right… Well, you suppose if he was truly uncomfortable, he’d begin whining melodramatically about it.

When the two of you finally catch up with Portia and Pepi at the beach, she’s already got the gargantuan bag open, and she’s setting up at what is allegedly “the perfect spot,” or so you’ve been told. It’s on the near end of the beach, and now, in the morning sun, it’s completely illuminated, but supposedly around noon, it becomes nicely shaded by an overhanging cliff, a nice place to relax after spending all morning in the heat. Portia has set up a blanket and two towels surrounding the bag, and she’s pulling out a wicker basket.

Getting your attention, she smiles and asks, “Do you know any spells that would keep this cool for a while?” There is a simple incantation for such a thing, one that wouldn’t drain on your magic much, so you nod and perform it quickly, smiling at Portia’s ooh-ing and ahh-ing.

“Thanks!” Portia pats your elbow, and goes back to setting things up. Julian has perched himself on the blanket, leaning back on one hand while the other pets Pepi, who’s curled up in his lap. You sit beside him and scratch under the cat’s chin. She was purring already, but the volume doubles with the extra attention.

Portia loudly announces the set-up complete, and pulls out one more item from her deflated bag, a large bottle of yellow liquid—oil. She pours some in her hand and starts rubbing it onto her skin, everywhere that’s exposed to the sun. When she finishes, she turns towards the two of you and says cheerfully, “Time to oil up, boys! Don’t want to get sunburned!”

You glance at Julian and see that he’s already looking at you, a dirty grin on his face. You can already guess what he’s going to say before he says it.

“Need any help with that, darling?” _Of course_. You can sense he really wants to, though, so you indulge him once more, gesturing to the bottle. Portia groans, “If you guys are gonna be gross, I’m going to going to the water first.”

You wave a goodbye while Julian reaches for the oil. You pull off your top, and let yourself sit loosely, letting him decide how he wants to begin. He takes his gloves off before pouring oil into his hands, then goes for your own, massaging the oil into your skin. It feels heavenly, and you let out a small contented sigh. As he moves on to your wrists and up your arms, you let your eyes slip shut, and relax.

As he moves up to your shoulders, he pulls you close to him, so you can lean against his chest. After covering your shoulders, neck, and face, and retrieving more oil, he goes for your back, stroking every inch, and doing it _just right_. When he rubs out a knot beside your spine, you groan into his sternum, to which Julian laughs quietly. When he reaches the hem of your short trousers, he pokes his fingers beneath them for a quick touch, then pulls them out.

Then he maneuvers you around, without any help from you in your nearly boneless state, so your back is resting against him. Now he starts rubbing the oil down your chest, purposefully but briefly playing with your nipples, pulling another noise from you, before moving to your stomach. The V of your hips get special treatment, firm and purposeful strokes that make you hotter than the sun does.

Once he’s done there, he gently lies you down on the blanket to crawl to your feet, pouring more oil on the way. His massaging of your feet and calves is less sensual than your torso, and it’s so nice and relaxing that you almost fall asleep by the time he’s done.

But you don’t, because you hear Portia calling for the two of you. “Hurry up, you guys! It’s not fun all by myself!”

You sit up and ask Julian, “Do you need help, too?” He shakes his head and gestures towards Portia.

“Go on ahead, she’ll throw a fit if we take any longer.” You don’t quite buy it, but you do as he says anyway, walking over to the edge of the water where Portia is. She’s giving you a saucy grin as you approach.

“Give you the special treatment, did he?” she asks bluntly, and you feel your face heat up. You don’t have to answer because she starts laughing and pulling you into the water. It’s odd—the water in the canals of Vesuvia is typically cool, if not cold, but the water of the ocean is warm. About body temperature, in fact, and it’s immediately relaxing.

Portia pulls you about thigh deep, talking all the while, “Since it’s your first time at the beach, you should probably know that the ocean’s different from the canals or the river. When you get deep enough, the water near the bottom can have its own current, and if you’re not careful, it can knock you down. That’s why it’s called the ‘undertow’!”

You nod along, only partially paying attention because the sensation of being this deep in the water is so different and _new_ and you can’t help but smile every time a wave hits against your legs. You look up and see that the waves that hit you get much larger not too much farther out, and you suddenly have the urge to test their strength.

Portia seems to see it in your face or something because she laughs and asks, “Wanna go deeper?” You nod instantly. “Okay!” Then, quickly, she turns and yells, “We’re going deeper, _mom_!” You look over your shoulder too and see that Julian is standing not too far from the edge of the water, arms crossed and looking pensive. At Portia’s comment, though, his expression sours.

“Don’t smart mouth me, Pasha, drowning is a serious hazard—”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry!” She blows a raspberry at him, and starts leading you deeper into the water, to about sternum level. The waves are certainly stronger here, and it’s fun to try and keep your balance against their power. They’re not so strong that they can successfully do so, though, and the two of you are giggling in between your sputters trying to get the saltwater out of your mouths.

“How do you like it so far?” she asks during a lull between the waves.

You grin and say, “It’s not at all what I expected. Thanks for inviting me, Portia.”

“Of course—!” she starts to say before a heretofore unseen wave slams right into the side of her face. She stands her ground but she lets out a surprised shriek that you can help but laugh heartily at.

All it takes is a brief lapse of inattention. You lose your footing for a second, and the undertow sweeps underfoot, knocking you loose from the sand beneath you, and you fall into the water. At first, you panic; your sense of direction disappears, and you momentarily forget how to swim in your disorientation. You can tell it’s lighter in one direction compared to the other, so when you manage to tamp down your fear, you begin swimming towards it.

Before you can break the surface of the water, two strong hands of differing sizes grip your arms, hefting you up. When you can breathe, you take a deep breath. Before you can do anything else, though, two worried voices call out your name before they begin speaking rapidly, while one pair of (cool, too smooth) hands push your hair out of your eyes and turn your head this way and that.

“Are you hurt? Can you breathe—?”

“Are you okay!? I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

“My dear, are you with me? Say something—”

“I’m sorry, Ilya, it’s my fault, I wasn’t paying attention—”

Eventually your head stops reeling and you’re able to pull the hands off your face so you can rub the water out of your eyes.

“I’m fine, you two.” When you finally open your eyes, you see the Devorak siblings both staring at you, matching expressions of fear and concern on their faces. You’re not as deep in the water as you were before, and it looks like Julian didn’t hesitate when you went under—he’s still wearing all his clothes, his shirt practically adhered to his skin and nearly see-through now that it’s wet. “I wasn’t even drowning or anything, I just fell.”

“But—”

You put your fingers over Julian’s mouth and smile at him. “I’m all right. You don’t have to worry.” Your smile quirks a little in one corner then, “But maybe we shouldn’t play this far out anymore.”

Portia laughs a little, “That’s probably a good idea. How about we go build a sand castle?”

 

* * *

 

Building a sand castle was definitely as fun as you expected, but much more difficult. Portia was the main architect of the castle, while Julian was delegated to retrieving more wet sand whenever you ran out, and you basically just did as Portia said. By the time you all finished, it was as tall as Portia’s waist, and looked similar to the Vesuvian palace, give or take a couple spires. It was a little sloppy in some places, and there was some paw prints in places (thanks, Pepi), but there were some pretty shells that sparkled in the sunlight decorating it and it had a small hole in the "entrance" big enough for Pepi to curl into. Overall quite an excellent sand castle, in your humble opinion.

“It’s beautiful…” Portia sighs, smiling at it.

On your other side, Julian nods. “It’s a shame the tides are coming in.” You and Portia gasp, and look towards the ocean, frowning. Julian is right; it was only a matter of time before the miniature palace would be overcome.

He leans towards the sand castle to pluck a particularly intact and shiny shell, blue with swirls of pearlescent violet, and hands it to you. “A keepsake.”

You take it, and pocket it, smiling up at him. “Thanks.”

He grins back and opens his mouth to reply to you, but he’s interrupted by a loud growling noise. You both look towards the source of the noise, and see a bashful looking Portia.

“S-so, hey, how about some lunch?” she says with a chuckle.

You and Julian laugh, and the three of you make your way back to your spot. It’s perfect timing, too, your cooling spell was about to wear off. True to Portia’s word, the spot is now covered with shade, meaning the three of you can eat lunch in comfort.

Portia sits next to the basket and pulls it open, revealing two dark bottles, a few fruits, and more tiny sandwiches than you can count. One of Julian’s eyebrows perks up, and he pulls one of the bottles out with a smirk. Yanking the cork out, he takes a sniff, and his expression immediately falls.

“Grape juice, Pasha? _Really_?”

Portia’s face flushes and she glares at him, crossing her arms, “We’re not drinking alcohol in the middle of the day!”

Julian looks at you pointedly, clearly expecting you to back him up. You simply raise your hands in surrender. There’s a part of you that agrees with Portia, but you’re not going to say that out loud. Julian heaves an over-dramatic sigh, “Fine, fine, grape juice, then.”

As the three of you tuck into your meals, Portia feeding little bits of the meat in her sandwiches to Pepi, you look up into the sky. It looks to be a little after noon, meaning your day at the beach is about halfway over. You find that you wish you could spend more time together with the siblings here. The beach was much more fun than you ever expected. But, you suppose, a lot of it had to do with the company.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, taking you from your thoughts. When you look up, you see Julian, holding out a slice of mango and looking at you with sultry eyes. A glance at Portia tells you she’s paying too much attention to Pepi to notice, and when you look back at Julian, he deliberately licks his lips. You’re sure if he wasn’t wearing the eyepatch, he’d wink at you, too.

You have quite the habit of indulging him.

As you take the slice of mango into your mouth, you grip his wrist, keeping his hand still. He seems confused, but doesn’t try to pull away, and when you swallow the fruit down, you slowly lick away the trails of mango juice that had dribbled down his hand and wrist, maintaining his gaze all the while. He watches, eye half-lidded but attentive, and bites his lip harshly. When you lick off the last drop, you hear him murmur your name pleadingly, but you only release his hand (which he leaves hanging in the air, as if you’d continue if he stayed just still) and go back to eating your tiny sandwiches. After a moment, he clears his throat and goes back to eating, too.

You catch him glaring at his gloved hands, as if he regrets wearing them and is weighing the pros and cons of continuing to wear them, and catch yourself smirking.

After eating, the three of you are feeling quite stuffed and lethargic. Portia lies down on the blanket, and Pepi curls up on her stomach for a catnap.

“I think Pepi’s got the right idea,” you say, eyes drooping, and Portia hums an agreement. Stretching, you look for a spot to lie down yourself. Julian catches your eye and pats his lap silently, offering. He has a sweet smile on his face, and you can’t not return it.

You lie down, resting your head in his lap such that you can look up at him. His shirt is mostly dry in some places, but it’s still sticking slightly to his muscular arms, and you can’t help but admire him. How did you get so lucky? You almost say it out loud, but you’re a little too sleepy, and it’s drowned out by a sudden yawn.

Julian laughs softly and begins running his hand through your hair, scratching softly in an attempt to relax you. It definitely works, because it’s only a few moments until you fall into the blissful comfort of sleep.

 

* * *

 

When you wake up, someone is shaking your shoulder. You open your eyes and see Portia, then notice that Julian isn’t anywhere nearby. At your confused expression, she puts a finger to her lips, and points towards the ocean. You turn around to look at what it is she’s pointing at, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s not quite sunset yet, but the sky is starting to turn more yellow than blue, and the sun is nearly red in the corner of your vision. You see Julian standing in the water, only up to his ankles—his _bare_ ankles. His boots and gloves are gone, leggings rolled up halfway up his calves, and his shirt has fallen off one shoulder thanks to the brisk ocean wind, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s gazing thoughtfully into the ocean, and he looks more calm than you’ve seen in a while. The almost-sunset light is striking on his figure, and he looks almost…ethereal, unreal, too beautiful to be anything but a mirage. You’re viscerally thankful to Portia for waking you for this.

The picturesque nature of the scene is interrupted by Julian’s sudden and very loud sneeze. Portia snorts and you can’t help but laugh; at the sneeze, but also at how cute you find it.

Julian’s just close enough to hear you, and at the sound of your voice, he turns sharply, fixing you with a smile. He makes his way over to you and Portia, picking up his boots and gloves along the way, and says, “We should probably leave soon if we want to make it anywhere before dark.” When he makes it to your spot, he rolls his leggings back down and starts pulling his gloves and boots back on.

You frown. Leave? But he’s right. Ash Beach is practically on the opposite side of Vesuvia from the Palace and South End. Still, the thought of being done and parting ways so early makes you feel…a little lonely. You wish you could spend more time with the two of them…

Almost as if reading your mind, Portia pipes up, “I suppose you’re right, it would be a shame if we were too late to the Rowdy Raven to get our usual spot. You’re coming, right?” she directs at you. Gratefully, you nod.

The three of you start packing up the basket, blanket, towels, and various other items into Portia’s oversized bag, and you put your top back on. Then you leave the beach. You cast a couple of forlorn looks over your shoulder at the beach, and notice Portia do the same a couple of times. When you reach the neighborhood of your shop, Portia excuses herself to head to her cottage, to drop off Pepi and change into something more appropriate.

From there to the Rowdy Raven, you and Julian walk arm in arm. You’re mostly silent, just enjoying each other’s company and the beauty of Vesuvia.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t drink too much,” you scold Julian when he returns with his third drink. You’re still nursing your first one; the taste isn’t bad, but the alcohol is strong, so it’s hard to drink a lot at a time.

“Pah,” he waves you off, “I have a high tolerance, thank you very much. It’ll take more than this to even get me tipsy.” He says that, but his face is already flushed and he’s talking louder than usual. It seems like you’ll have to take more drastic measures.

“Hm, I _was_ going to reward you if you didn’t drink yourself silly, but…” you say, faux-casually, pretending to examine your nails. In the corner of your eye, you see him straighten up significantly. “If you keep going at this rate—”

“W-wait!” he cries, letting go of his drink to grasp your arm, “I can be good! This will be my last one! Please?” The eagerness in his expression is downright delectable, and you smirk at him.

“Are you sure? Promise you’ll be a good boy for me, Julian?” you let your voice sink in the way that always makes Julian shiver, and trace his jaw down to his chin with one finger.

He bites his lip and nods. “I promise.”

“Okay,” you smile brightly at him and go back to resting your hand on your pint glass. “Think Portia will be here soon?”

It takes him a second to snap out of it, but he does. “Hmm, now that you mention it, she should already be here by now—”

“Sorry, guys!” The two of you turn to see her rushing towards your table. “Milady wanted me to run a quick errand, and I did it as fast as I could, but…”

You shake your head, “It’s fine. I hope you don’t mind we started without you.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she laughs, and heads over to the bar to order a drink. You watch over her, making sure no unruly types make a pass at her…but you’re also purposefully ignoring the heated gaze burning into you. You wish you could look back at him, but you also know that Julian enjoys being teased like this. Still…you bite your lip and tighten your grip on your glass to resist meeting his eye.

Julian seems to get impatient because soon you feel a leather boot slowly inching up the exposed calf of your leg. The corner of your mouth twitches up, but you otherwise don’t acknowledge it. He takes it further, hooking your ankle with his so he can pull your leg closer to him. Brazenly, he brushes his fingers against the top of your thigh, then places his full hand against it, pressing down lightly with his fingertips.

At that, you finally look at him. He jumps a little and gulps, surprised you actually reacted to him, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. You grin at him, pull his hand off, and reach into your pocket to pull out the shell he gave you. “Looking for this?” you ask, though you know he wasn’t, as you place the shell in his palm.

Julian purses his lips and narrows his eyes, “You know I—”

He’s interrupted by Portia’s return. She has a giant beer mug full to the brim, and a giant grin to match. “So what’d I miss?” she asks as she takes a seat.

Julian slips the shell back into your trouser pocket before answering. “Not much. Malak flew in, but instead of squawking up a storm, he landed on Tybold’s head and pecked at his bald spot ‘til he screamed and chased him out,” he says with a snicker. The bartender in question still looks grouchy about it.

Portia laughs, “Oh man, I wish I could’ve seen that!”

The three of you chat and make merry for a while, and Julian seems to have given up on trying to rile you up, but he hasn’t gotten another drink since finishing off his last. When Portia asks about it, he stammers out an excuse about how he’s trying to save money. Portia doesn’t look like she buys it, but she doesn’t question further.

It’s when Portia’s gone to get her third beer, and you’ve finished your first and only drink, that you decide to tease Julian again.

The moment Portia’s out of earshot, you turn to him and murmur, “I’m proud of you. You’re doing so well,” and press a kiss under his ear that quickly turns into a sharp nip. You hear him gasp, and when you pull away, he’s staring at you so desperately that you almost feel bad. He must’ve been trying really hard to keep it all in. You reach over to hold his hand, stroking his palm with your thumb.

When Portia returns, it’s with food. It’s simple beef stew, but it smells absolutely divine, and you all dig in.

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for coming to the beach with us!” Portia says to you, grasping one of your hands in hers. “It was so much fun!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling, “I’m glad you invited me. I had a great time.”

“Great!” Portia grins, “We should do it again sometime.”

“I'd love to.”

The outside of the Rowdy Raven is much more subdued and quiet than the inside. The night time chill has settled in, and the humidity has only amplified it. Portia and Julian don’t seem bothered by it, but your clothes are rather thinner and more sparse than theirs. You almost can’t feel your toes in your laced sandals. As Portia waves goodbye and disappears around a corner, you shiver, and Julian is immediately by your side.

“Cold?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you. Unfortunately, the cool leather of his gloves does more harm than help, and you shiver again. Julian clicks his tongue, “We need to go somewhere warmer.”

“How about your place?” you ask, quietly. You’ve been curious to see it ever since he mentioned it the afternoon he invited you to the beach with him and Portia. Where was it? How big was it? What would it look like? How would it smell?

Could his bed hold two? You almost want to actually ask, just to see his reaction.

Julian blushes and runs a hand through his hair. “If you’d like to,” he says, stepping away and taking your hand to lead the way, “Come. It’s not far.”

You snicker, “Of course you live close to this place.” He simply grins back at you.

 

* * *

 

When you reach Julian’s home, all your questions are answered. It was two bridges and a six minute walk south away from the Rowdy Raven, halfway between the tavern and Mazelinka’s, and built between two larger buildings. It's a little smaller than Portia’s cottage, but unlike her place, it has a tiny attic with a ladder leading up to it. The inside is homey, though not especially decorated like the shop; there were a couple bookshelves attached to the wall, a map of Vesuvia with some illegible scrawling on it in various places, and two potted plants on the sill of a window with a missing pane (one dead and entirely shriveled up, and the other a thriving cactus—you get the impression that they died/survived due to Julian’s lack of attention). There was a fireplace (unlit, but there was a large pile of ash that implied frequent use), a single armchair before it (with a closed book on one arm, and a face down open one on the other), a small stove in the corner (dusty with infrequent use), and a curtain that likely led to the bedroom. It smells mostly like Julian; leather, something musky and raw, and a little like old parchment. And finally, after taking a quick peek past the curtain while Julian went out back getting some wood for a fire, the bed could certainly hold the both of you…if you were snuggled up, anyway.

When Julian returns, tossing the logs in the fireplace, he starts the fire—but not the way you expect. You didn’t notice before, but scratched into the bricks in front of the fireplace is the magic circle you’d taught him in the Tower’s realm. He places two fingers in the center of it, focuses, and in moments, the logs light up.

He does it casually, naturally, like he’s done it plenty of times before, and it makes your heart swell in your chest. He’s changed so much from the Julian you’d met so long ago. You’re proud of him.

When he stands and looks back at you, he looks a little embarrassed, but you can’t tell if it’s because you were watching him do magic or because of what must surely be an expression of unabashed affection on your face.

He shakes it off, though, and pulls you forward to sit on the armchair. It’s meant for a man larger than you, large enough for someone of Julian’s size. After making sure you’re comfortable, he darts into the bedroom, and comes back with the blanket you spotted covering the bed. He shakes it out, and wraps it around your shoulders, making sure to cover as much of you as possible with it. Then he steps back, is still for a moment, then walks somewhere behind the armchair. When he returns, he has his overcoat, and wraps it around you as well.

Finally, he relaxes, kneeling down in front of you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Feel better?” he asks, voice quiet and gentle.

You can’t help a chuckle, “Maybe a little excessive, don’t you think?”

“Nothing’s ‘excessive’ when it comes to you and your comfort, darling,” he says with a grin.

For a while, the two of you bask in each other’s company. At some point, he lays his head down in your lap, and his hands start making motions against your back. You’re not sure if they have any meaning—it’s hard to tell through his overcoat and the blanket. Regardless, it’s a nice sensation, and having Julian leaning against you as he is is just as reassuring and warming as the layers he wrapped you in.

The warmth is comfortable…at least, until it’s not. You try to ignore the mounting heat for a while, unwilling to move Julian off your lap as much as you would be with a curled up cat, but eventually you’re almost sweating, and it becomes too much.

“Julian?” you nudge him softly. You’re a little worried he fell asleep, because his hands stopped moving a little bit ago. But he looks up at you, attentive.

“Yes?” Julian licks his lips, then bites down on his lower one. He looks almost like he's expecting something, and you remember your promise in the tavern. His reward. You feel guilty for nearly forgetting.

“If you’d like, I think it’s time for your reward.” You lean down and kiss his forehead. His brows furrow a little, and he looks disappointed, fingers curling into the overcoat covering your back.

“Was that it?” he asks.

You snort. “No, but I can’t exactly get up with you draped all over me.” He jerks, and quickly scrambles to a stand.

“Right. Just so,” he mumbles to himself, putting his hands behind his back. You finally stand, letting the overcoat and blanket fall onto the armchair as you stretch, groaning as your joints crack from sitting still for who knows how long. When you relax again, you reach up to put your hands on Julian’s shoulders, and stare him dead in the eye.

“I’d like you to go to the bedroom, take off your gloves and boots and eyepatch, and kneel next to the bed, okay?” You speak kindly, but firmly. “Will you do that for me, Julian?”

He nods, and quickly leaves. You take a moment to lie his overcoat over the back of the armchair, and fold the blanket up, leaving it just outside the curtain before walking into the bedroom.

Inside, Julian has his eyepatch and gloves off, piled on a wooden chair you didn’t notice the first time next to a wardrobe you also somehow didn’t notice, and one boot thrown a few feet away. There’s also a lit lantern on a small hook. He seems to be having a hard time getting his second boot off in his haste, but when you walk in, his hands freeze and he looks at you nervously, the contrast between the white sclera of his left eye and red of right eye slightly more noticeable in the lantern light.

“Ah, sorry, I’m almost done, just— _hold on_ —” He glares down at his boot, and tries to just yank it off, but ties in the back hold taut. You can’t help but laugh a little, and bend down to untie them for him, pulling the boot off slowly. Julian doesn’t hesitate to slid off the side of the bed to kneel down next to it like you asked.

“Oh, Julian,” you whisper, “you did very well.” You pat his head and move around him. His eyes follow you intently as you take a seat in front of him on the bed. The bed is short and close enough to the ground that even though Julian’s kneeling, he’s still tall enough to be eye level with you. Or, would be, if he weren’t slightly hunched over with nerves.

You reach forward and caress his cheek, guiding him to straighten his back and lean forward until he’s against you, plastered to your chest. You’re close enough to see his eyes; the pupil of his right eye is bigger than the other after wearing the eyepatch all day. You brush the hair out of his right eye so you can gently thumb the bruised skin beneath it. He flinches a little, but leans into the touch.

“You’re such a good boy,” you say, giving him a tiny peck on the lips. He tries to follow when you back away, but you don’t let him. “I’m going to tell you your reward now, okay?” He nods swiftly. You lean in to speak into his ear, “First, you’re going to suck me off a little bit. Then I’m going to finger you until you come,” you hear him gasp and release a shuddery breath, “and finally I’ll have you ride me until you do again. But you can’t come unless I say so, okay? Is that all right?”

“Yes, yes, _yes_ , _please_.” You hear him clawing into the mattress, and smile. After releasing him and pushing him back to sit on his ankles, you remove your clothes piece by piece. When you get to your trousers, you pull the shell from your pocket, placing it carefully on the bedside table.

Your erection isn’t at its full size yet, but it does pulse a little when you catch the way Julian hungrily eyes it. Once you’re entirely naked, you lean back on one hand, and bury the other in Julian’s hair, gripping it firmly so you can guide him down to where he’s meant to be. He doesn’t hesitate to take you into his mouth, expertly keeping his teeth from scraping while also lavishing you with his tongue.

He doesn’t move, though, he stays put, only paying attention to the first inch or so. It takes you a second to realize why—he wants you to direct him. You laugh to yourself; Julian is adorable.

You begin pushing him down, taking you all the way in. His mouth is soft as silk, but solid, and as you move him up and down, it doesn’t take you long to get fully hard. The bigger you get, the more often Julian whimpers, reaching his hands up to grasp at your spread thighs. He squeezes at random intervals for what seems like no reason, before you notice that he does it every time you push him all the way down. Hm…interesting. Experimentally, you suddenly shove him down hard, reaching into his throat, and he chokes a little. You pull him off, and his saliva drips down your length as well as down his chin. His eyes look a little dazed and unfocused, but he does look up at you, curious.

“Julian…” you murmur, moving your hand down to trace his wet lower lip, “you’re so…”

You let yourself trail off before grabbing Julian’s hair again, and push him down onto you again. He moans, vibrating against you pleasantly. You speed up the pace a little, lurching your hips up when you push Julian down. He doesn’t choke on you anymore, but it still seems to turn him on the most.

It’s when the heat starts really building up that you know your orgasm is close, so you pull Julian off for the last time, and release his hair. Immediately, he collapses against your lap, panting and pliant.

You aren’t done yet, though. You reach down to untuck his shirt from his pants, pulling it off with a little help. He manages to pulls his own leggings down himself (still no undergarments, the madman), and when he’s bare, you pull him into your lap, letting him rest his hands on your shoulders. He’s heavy, especially now when he can barely hold his own weight, but you’re durable.

It’s when you’re eye level with his chest that you notice the odd shape of red on his chest. It’s not his usual flush of arousal, and it runs like a V down his chest to a little above his belly button. Out of curiosity, you brush your fingers down it, and you hear Julian hiss in pain.

“Julian? What is this?”

He looks away before answering. “…It’s a sunburn.” You blink up at him, confused.

“Did you not use any oil before?”

Julian groans and explains, “It doesn’t matter whether I do or not; I still burn up like a lobster.” He glares at you when you laugh.

“That’s cute,” you say before kissing the sunburn as gently as you can. “So, do you have any of that lubricant here?” He points to the bedside table and you kiss him as thanks (ignoring how he tastes like you). He’s loathe to let you pull away to get the lubricant, but it’s a necessary evil.

Once you retrieve it, a bottle half-full of clear liquid (has he used some of it already?), you pour some on your fingers. Julian drapes himself on you, curving his backside up to give you easier access.

“Eager, hm?” you ask rhetorically, reaching behind him to get at his hole. When you push one finger in, he moans, but less with pleasure, and more with dissatisfaction.

“Darling,” he pleads, “you can do more than one, I can take it—” You interrupt him with a kiss, slowly thrusting your finger in and out. He gladly accepts the kiss, but he tries to quicken the pace by jerking his hips back. Your free hand darts to the small of his back, pulling him flush against you so he can’t move. “Stay still,” you say when you finally break the kiss.

He whines pathetically at this, but doesn’t try to fight you on it. To reward him, you insert a second finger. Now with better reach, you begin searching inside him for that spot—

“ _Ah_!” Found it. Your pace is still slow, but you press down hard on that spot every time you press in, and Julian’s short nails dig into your shoulders.

It feels like ages before you start using a third finger, but Julian doesn’t even seem to notice. At some point, his head dropped to bury in your neck, and he hasn’t made any noises besides small whimpers and gasps.

“Julian,” you purr. He hums in question. “How are you feeling?” You smile to yourself when he groans your name.

“I feel like I’m on fire… Can’t you please— _haah_ —please go faster? Please, _please…_ ” Ah, he’s begun the begging. “Please, I was good, wasn’t I? You said I was, please—”

Oh, no, he almost sounds like he’s going to cry. Roughly shoving in a fourth finger and starting a quicker pace, you apologize, “Oh, Julian, of course you were, you were so good all day.” He moans, and you continue talking sweetly into his hair, “I’m sorry for bullying you, I couldn’t help it, you’re just too cute.”

“I-I’m not—” but he’s cut off with his own sounds of pleasure.

“You are, especially like this,” you release his waist so you can tilt his head up and see his face. He looks absolutely wrecked; red from ear to ear, eyes glazed over and teary, more drool dripping down from the corner of his mouth. He licks his lips and swallows.

“Do you—do you like it?” he asks. ‘Do you like _me_?’ he doesn’t say. You smile, pressing down particularly hard on his prostate before upping the speed again.

“Of course. I love all of you,” you coo, and he chokes on air. Suddenly his hips jerk forward, and you feel a splash of ejaculate hit your stomach and abdomen. Not as much as a normal orgasm, but the way he’s shaking and groaning now is evidence of how equally satisfying it is.

When he’s finally finished, Julian collapses against you, now completely unable to stay up on his own. His still half-hard cock presses against yours, and it’s difficult to keep yourself from bucking up to grind against him. You’re not strong enough to stay up anymore with Julian’s full weight against you, and you fall back into the bed with an ‘ _oof_.’

You laugh under your breath, and start stroking Julian’s back. “How are you feeling now?” Julian only replies with a short grunt, and you laugh for real this time. “Do you wanna stop here?” At that, Julian jolts above you, and tries to push himself back up, but fails miserably.

“I don’t want to stop, I just don’t… I-I don’t think I have the energy to…” He doesn’t finish, but you know what he’s saying.

“How do you want to do this, then?”

Julian takes a deep breath, and you think he’s going to speak again, but he tries to push himself up again, and manages to crawl up the bed, falling face first into the pillow. As you sit up, you can see how attractively his back is curved, and how his stretched wet hole shines in the lamplight. When you don’t move for a second, he reaches a weak hand up and slaps his own ass.

“C’mon, darling,” he slurs from the pillow, “it’s not gonna fuck itself.” You can’t help the sudden burst of laughter that comes from that.

You quickly grab the lubricant and cover your length with it, and move to your knees behind him, grasping his hips. You rub the head of your cock against his hole as you ask, “How do you want it?”

He turns his head to smirk up at you, “How do you think?” You smile back and nod. You've never stopped indulging him before—why stop now?

When you enter him, he grunts and takes a deep but shaky breath. You don’t give him much time to adjust, though, and start thrusting at a decent clip. Fast enough that he can feel it, but not forceful in the way he really wants it, and you can tell by the way he tries to sway his hips back that he doesn’t have the patience to wait for it. You let him slide the first time, but this time you give his backside a quick swat.

The strangled noise that comes out of him is exquisite, and it’s obvious he wasn’t expecting the strike. You rub the red spot, and continue moving at your own pace. He tries to move things along faster twice more, but you get the feeling it’s only because he likes it each time you spank him.

Julian whines your name, voice watery. Ignoring him, you try to gauge the distance between you and his shoulders, and frown when you realize you’re not going to be able to bite and mark them up like this. But a solution comes to you, one you’re sure Julian would appreciate. One of your hands leaves his hip and sinks into Julian’s curls.

When you pull him up, forcing him to balance on his shaky arms, he cries out, and you’re a little worried you hurt him until he moans your name again. Like this, you can just about reach his shoulders, so you lean down to latch onto a nice spot near his neck, biting and sucking.

This time, the marks will stay there. The thought is satisfying.

Julian, welcoming it, pushes his shoulders back aways. This allows you to continue working on his shoulders while also giving you more maneuverability while taking him, which you gladly take advantage of.

Now you give it to him the way he wants, fast and hard and overwhelming, taking more than giving, and he doesn’t hold back any of his noises, some of them devolving into sobs of pleasure.

“Oh, Julian, you’re taking me so well,” you murmur into the back of his neck once you’re finished with his shoulders, “I’m so proud of you.”

“ _Nnh_ , I-I love you,” he gasps, “I love you _so much_ … P-please _don’t stop_ …” His arms start wobbling, and he eventually falls into the pillow again, but he’s so loud that it hardly keeps you from hearing him.

“I won’t, don’t worry,” you reassure him, “I’m going to give you everything you want, my love.”

He turns his head enough so he can look at you over his shoulder, and even with you pounding into him and the look of desperation, he somehow manages to look innocent and shy as he asks, “E- _every_ thing?”

“Anything and everything,” you answer, panting. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, but probably not as sore as Julian.

“Then, will you…” He’s probably going to ask you to— “will you, _ah_ , move in with me?” Wait, what? His request throws you for a loop, and your hips stutter for a few thrusts. But you promised you wouldn’t stop, so you quickly get your rhythm back.

“Move in with you?”

“ _Y_ _es_ , I want to-…to see you before I fall asleep, and,” he sobs again, “and for you to be the first thing I see when I wake up, and—ah,  _ah_!—argue about what have for dinner, and—”

“Of course I will,” you say, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, “ _Of course_ , I love you—” He cuts you off with a cry of your name.

“I-I’m going to—” He’s very close, but you wrap your finger and thumb tightly around the base of his cock, and he whines _loud_. “ _Darling, please_ —!”

“Don’t you want to come together, Julian?” You catch his gaze, and you can see him bite his lip and nod. “You can do it,” you croon, “you can handle it just a little longer, you’re so strong, so good…”

You’re not too far from the edge yourself, though, so he doesn’t have to wait for long. When you finally release him, it only takes three more heavy thrusts from you and two strokes of his length for the both of you to orgasm, loud cries coming from the both of you. You feel your come filling him up, and eventually you feel a little of it drip out past your softening dick.

You soon become too boneless to stay up on your knees for much longer, and you let yourself fall to your side, pulling Julian down with you. You slip out of him once you land, and you feel Julian shudder not unpleasantly.

It takes a lot of time and effort, but you eventually turn Julian around to face you, and you gently wipe away the tears and dried saliva, even a little bit of snot, off his face and wipe it on the already soiled bed sheet. The two of you spend a few moments staring at each other tenderly, lovingly, spending the cooldown and afterglow in—

Julian sneezes. You laugh.

“Maybe we should get cleaned up and get the blanket, huh?”

“Good idea.”

 

* * *

 

When the two of you are (mostly) clean, the two of you cuddle up in Julian’s bed, Julian spooning you from behind. It’s comfortable and warm and you can see that shell sparkling in the moonlight and, _damn it_ , you love this man so much.

Julian’s bed… If you move in, wouldn’t it be both Julian’s and _your_ bed?

“Hey,” you say, voice husky from your earlier exertion, “when do you want me to move in?”

His arms around you stiffen, and he doesn’t say anything. You feel dread start pooling cold in your stomach. Did he not mean it? Was it something he just said in the heat of the moment? You can’t see his face in this position, but when you try to turn around to look at him, he tightens his grip on you, preventing you from moving. Your worry only gets worse when you feel him bury his face into your hair.

“Julian?” He gasps.

“Sorry, sorry, I just. Needed a second.” Julian sounds breathless and raw as he speaks. “You can move in whenever you’d like. Yesterday, even, if you want.” He sounds so quietly delighted that all your concerns vanish.

“Yesterday,” you say with a little laugh. “Yesterday sounds good.”

“Wonderful,” he says sleepily into your hair before yawning. “Perfect. I’ll ask Pasha to help…”

“Good night, Julian.”

“You too, darling… Mmn…”

You sleep more contentedly than you have in a while.

**Author's Note:**

> what do you mean that's not how that spell works, get off my jock
> 
> so maybe i don't know how fucking magic works but you bet your ass i studied the hell out of the vesuvia map to make sure all my locations were Accurate.
> 
> also if ur my friend and i just got u hooked on julian and now ur readin this. you're welcome ((^:


End file.
